


Patria of the Dead

by steelplatedhearts



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Femslash February, Shaun of the Dead Parody, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelplatedhearts/pseuds/steelplatedhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine has enough to deal with--her girlfriend just dumped her, her father is terrible, and her life is going nowhere. As a consequence, she isn't really in the mood to deal with the zombie apocalypse.</p><p>But zombies won't wait around until you can sort your life out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://sarah531.tumblr.com/post/42803686017/this-was-supposed-to-be-funny-i-dont-know-what)!

“You get what I’m saying, right Ep?” Cosette says, trying to subtly clean a spot off the bar with her shirtsleeve. “It’s not that I don’t like him—Grantaire, it’s not that I don’t like you—”

Grantaire is very drunk and staring very intently at Enjolras, as per normal, so Cosette goes unacknowledged.

“—But it would be nice if we could spend some time alone without him,” Cosette says, turning the full force of her bambi eyes on Eponine. “Because you bring him, and then I bring my flatmates, and I know you don’t really get on with them—”

“That’s not fair,” Eponine says. “It’s not that I don’t like Enjolras and Jehan. You guys know that it’s not that I don’t like you, right?”

“Right,” Jehan says. Enjolras says nothing, eyeing Grantaire warily.

“It’s just that Grantaire doesn’t have a lot of friends,” Eponine says in an undertone. “I like to help him get out there when I can, you know?”

“Wow, he doesn’t have any friends? I can’t _imagine_ why,” Enjolras says, edging his chair away from Grantaire, who’s trying (and failing) to be subtle about his attempts to scoot closer to Enjolras.

“It was our _anniversary_ last week,” Cosette says, ignoring him. “We came here, like we do every night—I just want _more_ , Ep. And I love you, and I want you to be with me, to want more too. And while we’re at it,” she says, “I’d like to meet your dad.”

“No, you really wouldn’t,” Eponine mumbles. “But the rest of it sounds good. I’ll make a reservation for us at that nice Italian place down the street for tomorrow, yeah? Just you and me. We can get a fresh start.”

“You mean it?” Cosette asks hopefully.

“Yeah, I do,” Eponine says. “It’ll be great, I promise.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Combeferre corners her in the kitchen the next morning.

“We need to talk about Grantaire,” he says, folding his arms. “He left the front door wide open last night.”

Eponine groans, pouring herself some coffee. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Yes, we do!” Combeferre says, exasperated. “We should have had this conversation ages ago, honestly. I know he’s a laugh, but he’s a terrible flatmate, Ep. He’s constantly drunk, he’s going in and out at all hours of the day, he doesn’t contribute any rent money—”

“He does too!” Eponine says. “He sells weed sometimes.”

“Oh, that makes it _so much better_ ,” Combeferre says, raising an eyebrow.

Eponine sighs. “Look, I’ll talk to him, okay? Get him to clean up and help around the flat.”

“Thank you,” Combeferre says. “I mean, I don’t _want_ to have to kick him out, but something’s got to change.”

Eponine grabs her coffee and toast and heads to the living room where Grantaire is sitting on the couch playing a video game. She plops down next to him and grabs a controller.

“Don’t you have work?” he asks, not looking away from the TV.

“I’ve got like 20 minutes till I have to leave,” Eponine says, mashing at the buttons. “Combeferre’s pissed at you again.”

Grantaire snorts. “What did I do _now_?”

“You left the front door open,” Eponine says. “Also the house is a total fucking mess. I almost broke my neck on a paint can when I got out of the shower today.”

“I’m an _artist_ ,” Grantaire says, waving his hand airily. “I have no time to worry about such trifles.”

“You’re going to be an _evicted_ artist if you don’t get your shit together,” Eponine says. “Just—clean things up, maybe move to a different chair so it doesn’t look like you’ve been sitting in the same place all day.”

“Can do,” Grantaire says with a sardonic salute.

“I know you _can_ ,” Eponine says, rolling her eyes. “But what are the odds that you actually _will_?”

Grantaire shrugs. “Maybe like 25%?”

“You know what? It’s better than zero,” Eponine says, getting up. “I’ll take it.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Eponine’s in the grocery’s stockroom organizing inventory when he shows up. Musichetta, their cashier, appears in the doorway with a grimace. “Hey, Ep, your dad’s here.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Eponine growls, slamming his clipboard down. “What the hell does he want?”

Musichetta shrugs. “I don’t know, but he seems calm. Didn’t even try to hit on me, so whatever it is, it’s probably not an emergency.”

“Thanks, Chetta,” Eponine says with a small smile. “I’ll deal with him.”

He’s reading the paper as he leans against Musichetta’s checkout stand, engrossed in an article about a crashing satellite.

“What?” Eponine says abruptly, flipping down his paper.

“Just wanted to remind you about your bimonthly visit with the little brat tomorrow,” he says, folding the paper up and sticking it under his arm. “He won’t shut up about it.”

“If Gav is such a brat, why can’t you just let me have custody of him?” Eponine says, folding her arms.

He smirks. “Because that would let you get what you want, and we can’t have that, can we? Besides, he’s finally getting to an age where he’s _useful.”_

“You’ve got him stealing,” Eponine says hollowly.

“He’s almost fifteen,” her father says with a shrug. “It’s about time he started contributing to the household.”

Eponine sighs, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll be around tomorrow.” She shoos him out and resolves to get her brother out of that house.

It’s easier said than done though, and Eponine spends the rest of the day distracted, worrying about Gavroche. To get custody of her brother, she’ll need a lawyer. To get a lawyer, she’ll need money, more than a shitty minimum wage grocery store job will get her.

Then there’s the fact that she doesn’t even _know_ any lawyers besides Enjolras, who does work for the ACLU and doesn’t actually like her, which rules him out as a possibility on both counts.

She’s still brooding over the situation when she clocks out, and is so engrossed in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice the man on the sidewalk until she runs into him.

“Sorry—hey!” he says, recognition dawning on his face. “Eponine, how are you!”

He sweeps her up into a hug and Eponine grins. “Hey, Bahorel. Can’t complain.”

“I haven’t seen you in way too long,” he says, setting her back down. “Are you still dating what’s-her-name—the little blonde one?”

“Cosette,” Eponine says. “Yeah, our three-year anniversary was last week.”

“Brilliant,” he says, grinning broadly. “You do anything special?”

“We’re going out for a meal tonight—oh, _shit_ ,” Eponine says. “Oh _fuck_ , I was supposed to book the restaurant—I’ll call you later, Bahorel, I have to go—”

“Good talking to you!” he says cheerfully as she runs off.

*   *   *   *   *  

The Italian place down the street is booked. So is the Greek place around the corner, and the French restaurant two blocks over.

“It’s not even _Valentine’s Day_ or anything!” Eponine says, pacing back and forth. Grantaire stares at her from his place on the couch, unperturbed. “What do I do now?”

“Go to the Musain?” Grantaire says, doodling on his arm with a sharpie.

“The whole point of this was to _not_ go to the Musain again,” Eponine snaps. “Besides, they don’t even make real meals.”

Grantaire shrugs. “Then I’ve got nothing.”

Eponine flops on the couch beside him, throwing an arm over her eyes. “I am the _worst_ girlfriend of all time.”

“Nah, that would be Belle Gunness,” Grantaire says. “Lived in the 1800’s, killed like 30 of her boyfriends. At least you haven’t killed anyone!”

“We are just going to pass right over how you know that,” Eponine says. The phone rings, and she starts, picking up. “Yeah, hello?”

“Hey!” Cosette says. “Just checking in—what’s the plan for tonight?”

“Ah,” Eponine says, wincing. “There’s been a problem with the tables.”

There’s silence from the other end of the line, then Cosette sighs. “You didn’t book the table, did you?”

“No,” Eponine says.

“So what are we going to do?”

Grantaire mouths ‘The pub!’ at her, so she sighs and says, “How about the Musain?”

She isn’t even surprised when Cosette hangs up on her.

*   *   *   *   *  

“I don’t think I can let you in,” Jehan says apologetically. “She’s gone all shouty—you know how she can shout.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eponine says to the buzzer. “But please—just let me in, I can explain everything—”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Enjolras cuts in. “Now piss off.”

“I don’t know why the hell Grantaire thinks you’re so great,” Eponine growls, kicking the door. “You could try _not_ being an asshole for thirty seconds—”

“Yeah, _that’s_ the way to get us to let you in,” Enjolras snaps.

“I’ll climb the fucking building,” Eponine threatens. “I swear I will, don’t think I won’t.”

“Jesus,” Jehan says. “Enj, just let her in before she breaks her neck.”

The door clicks open, and Eponine races up the stairs to Cosette’s flat.

*   *   *   *   *  

Cosette in one of her moods is a terrifying thing to behold when turned on unhelpful salesclerks and post office workers.

Eponine decides that it’s even more terrifying when the mood is directed at her.

“If it was just this one thing, I wouldn’t be so upset,” Cosette says, angrily applying mascara. “But you keeps saying you’re going to do things and then you just _don’t_! Like you promised we were going to go on a vacation, and you promised you were going to start going to yoga classes with me, and that you were going to stop smoking! You bailed on meeting my parents—”

“That’s not fair,” Eponine says, clenching her fists. “I told you, my brother broke his arm—”

“And that’s another thing!” Cosette says, turning away from the mirror to face Eponine. “I get that you don’t like your dad and don’t want to introduce us, _fine_. Whatever, I can deal with that. But you seem to really like your brother, and I haven’t met him! Am I not good enough to meet your brother, or what?”

“It’s not you,” Eponine says. “I just—he’s all I have, it’s my job to protect him—”

Cosette scoffs. “So what—he’s all you have, and you don’t have me, then? Or you have to protect him from big bad Cosette?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Eponine protests.

“Well then, how _did_ you mean it?” Cosette says. When Eponine can’t come up with an answer, she slumps against the wall. “Look, Ep, I think it’s time to cut our losses here.”

“What do you mean?” Eponine asks, chest tight.

“I think we’re done,” Cosette says miserably, not looking at her. “I can’t—I can’t wait around forever waiting for you to get your life together, Ep. I don’t want to end up sitting in the Musain twenty years from now wondering what happened.”

Eponine doesn’t move, hardly even breathes.

“I think you should go,” Enjolras says, opening the door.

“I—yeah, I’ll do that,” Eponine says, numb. She leaves, walking out into the pouring rain that started when she was still in the flat.

She does not look back.

*   *   *   *   *  

“Don’t cry,” Grantaire says, panicked. “Look, I got you some beer!”

Eponine raises her head off the bar to look at the proffered pint, and promptly bursts back into tears. “She was trying to get me to quit drinking so much beer. We were going to get healthy together!”

“I’m going to be honest here, Ep—I have no idea how to deal with stuff like this other than with copious amounts of alcohol,” Grantaire says. “Usually, no tears are involved. I think I might be allergic to crying—oh for _fuck’s sake_ , who put that song on?”

The jukebox in the corner has come alive with “And I Will Always Love You.”

“It’s on _random_ ,” Eponine says, eyes watering. “She used to sing along to this with her hairbrush as a microphone.”

She thunks her head back down on the bar with a wail. Grantaire looks alarmed.

“It’s okay,” he says, gingerly patting Eponine’s head. “We’ll go out drinking again tomorrow, make it all better with booze.”

“I can’t,” Eponine says, sniffling. “I’ve got Gavroche for the day.”

“And if I suggest bringing him along, you’ll punch me,” Grantaire says. “Well then, we’ll just have to get as drunk as we can now.”

*   *   *   *   *  

They do, indeed, get as drunk as they can, which is how Eponine ends up singing along to Lady Gaga at 4 am.

“I’m on the right track, baby,” she belts out, while Grantaire jumps around in something that passes for a dance. “I was BORN THIS WAY!”

“Jesus _fucking Christ_.”

Eponine whirls around, nearly falling over, to find Combeferre in the doorway. “Shit, did we wake you?”

“No, I was already awake,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Because why would I possibly need to be asleep at 4 am?”

“I’m sorry,” Eponine says.

“I’m not,” Grantaire calls out, still dancing.

“Shut _up_ Grantaire—look, Cosette and I split today,” Eponine explains. “We’ll keep it quieter.”

“Thank you,” Combeferre says. “I have to be at work tomorrow because absolutely everyone else is sick, I got mugged by some asshole that _bit me_ earlier—I’m just not in the mood to deal with this.”

“Sorry,” Eponine says, chastised. “We’ll turn it down.”

But without Lady Gaga as a distraction, she ends up crying on the couch. Grantaire has no idea what to do with her, but has enough foresight to hide the romantic comedy DVDs.

She falls asleep on Grantaire’s shoulder at 5, and the last thing she does before sliding into unconsciousness is grab a sharpie and jot a list on Grantaire’s arm:

  1. Pick up Gav
  2. Go to Cosette’s
  3. GET SHIT TOGETHER




	2. Chapter 2

She goes to the shop the next morning for some ice cream, which is a terribly clichéd way to deal with a breakup, but she doesn’t really care at this point.

The streets are a lot emptier than they should be, and she has to leave her money on the counter because nobody comes to take it. But she makes it there and back without incident, and is just about to watch a little TV before she goes to pick up Gav when Grantaire says, “There’s a girl in the garden.”

“What?” she asks, sure she’s misheard.

“There’s some girl wandering around in our garden,” he says, staring out the window. “I think she’s drunk.”

“I’ll get rid of her,” Eponine sighs, brushing past Grantaire. “It’s a talent of mine, apparently—getting rid of girls.”

The girl is lurching around and running into the fence. “Hey!” Eponine shouts, hands on her hips. “Get out of our garden, please!”

The girl doesn’t even seem to notice that Eponine’s spoken, so Eponine grabs a small pebble and throws it, bouncing it off the side of her head. “Hey! I’m talking to you. You need to get out of here.”

That gets her attention. The girl turns around slowly, then lunges at Eponine, arms up and teeth bared.

Eponine barely has time to say, “Oh, _shit_ ,” before the girl’s knocked her over and is clawing at her face. She pushes the girl off, sending her stumbling backwards, and is ready when she lunges again.

One good shove and the girl flies back, landing squarely on the base of the umbrella stand.

Eponine stares in horror at the bloody mess she’s created. “Um, Grantaire?” she says, turning to the house. “I think I killed someone—we need to call Montparnasse.”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Grantaire says, leaving the house and standing by Eponine. “Yeah, you haven’t killed anyone yet.”

“What?” Eponine asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Drunk Garden Girl is still alive and kicking,” he says, pointing, and Eponine follows his finger in time to see the girl drag herself off the pole and start lurching towards them, a hole in her chest.

There’s a grunt from the bushes, and Eponine turns her head to see a man covered in blood emerge from the bushes. Grantaire and Eponine exchange glances.

“That’s a fucking _zombie,_ ” Grantaire says, watching the two undead shamble around the backyard. “Holy _shit._ ”

“So, shall we go inside?” Eponine says casually.

“Sounds like a plan!” Grantaire says, voice rapidly getting higher and higher. They beat a hasty retreat inside, locking the back door behind them.

“I’ll get the front door,” Eponine says. “You turn on the news, see if anyone’s saying anything.”

“That’s decidedly unhelpful, Ep,” Grantaire says as Eponine vanishes into the foyer. “Anyone’s saying anything all the time.”

“SHIT!”

Eponine races back into the room, tripping over the table. “He’s only got _one arm_ , Grantaire, oh my _god_ I am not awake enough for this—”

“FUCK!” Grantaire leaps up as the zombie enters the room, and promptly falls over the back of the couch. “Shit, Ep, _do something—_ ”

“Like what?” she shrieks.

“Anything!” Grantaire yells as he scrambles to right himself.

Eponine grabs the nearest object—a sharpie—and hurls it at the zombie’s head. It bounces off rather pathetically.

“Oh, well done,” Grantaire says. “Way to go!”

“I panicked!” Eponine shouts. “I just turned the corner and he was _right fucking there_! Why don’t _you_ do something?”

Grantaire grabs a half-full bottle of vodka from the night before and smashes it over the zombie’s head. It goes down, and Eponine lets out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” she says. “Right. Smash things on their heads. That’s doable.” She turns to the window, staring at the two zombies in the garden trying to get in. “We should take out those guys.”

“I’ll pass,” Grantaire says, crossing his arms. “I’m staying here, where it’s safe and zombie-free.”

Suddenly, the first zombie smashes through the window, and Eponine looks at Grantaire despairingly.

“You just _had_ to tempt fate, didn’t you?” she snarls, running for the hall closet. “Now there’s going to be blood all over the kitchen!”

She grabs an old baseball bat from the closet and runs back into the kitchen, swinging wildly until both zombies’ brains are oozing out onto the floor.

“Holy _shit_ , Ep,” Grantaire says, eyes wide. Eponine just shrugs.

“You grow up with my dad, you know how to beat someone’s head in. I mean, not that I’ve ever had to actually _do it_ before, but hey. Useful skills.”

“Okay,” Grantaire says, sighing. “What do we do now?”

Eponine pulls out her phone. “Check on Gav, is what.”

Her little brother picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Gav,” Eponine says, relieved. “Are you okay? Is everything all right over there?”

“Yeah,” Gavroche says, confused. “There were some people trying to break in earlier, but Dad scared them off. How’d you know about that?”

“Never you mind. Did they hurt you?”

“As if they could,” Gavroche scoffs. “I think one of them bit dad, though.”

“Okay, you stay in your room and don’t come out for anyone except me, okay?” Eponine says. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

*   *   *   *   *  

“All right, General Thenardier,” Grantaire says, clutching his crowbar. “What’s the plan?”

“It’s simple,” Eponine says. “We take Combeferre’s car, go over to my dad’s and take care of him. Then we grab Gav, go over to Cosette’s, barricade the doors, have a nice cup of tea, and wait for the army to sort everything out.”

 “Wait, where _is_  Combeferre?” Grantaire asks.

“At work, probably,” Eponine says. “I don’t think he’s in—he must have gotten a lift from someone.”

“How come we have to go to Cosette’s?” Grantaire asks, raising an eyebrow. “She dumped you yesterday, may I remind you.”

“Yeah, well, I still love her and want to know she’s okay,” Eponine says, glaring.

“Fine,” Grantaire says, throwing his hands up. “We can go get Cosette, but I want to hole up somewhere with a better booze supply.”

“Okay, how’s this: we take the car, go round to Dad’s, deal with him, pick up Gav, go get Cosette, then come back here, have some tea or booze, and wait for all this to get dealt with.”

“Sounds great, except for the part where we’ve got three re-dead zombies and a broken window,” Grantaire says. “It’s a tactical nightmare.”

“Okay, new plan,” Eponine says, absentmindedly twirling her baseball bat. “Take the car, pick up Gav, kill Dad, grab Cosette, go to the Musain, have some drinks, and wait for all of this to blow over. How’s that?”

“Perfect,” Grantaire says. “Let’s do it. Can I drive?”

“I don’t care,” Eponine says, shrugging.

“Great,” Grantaire says. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom, and we can get on the road.”

He darts upstairs, and Eponine rummages through the closet for more weapons. She’s found a lacrosse stick and decided against bringing the mop when she hears a large banging from upstairs. She whirls around, holding the bat up; ready to run upstairs to save Grantaire from whatever trouble he’s gotten into.

Suddenly, he appears at the top of the stairs, racing down like the house is on fire. He hurtles outside, grabbing Eponine as he goes.

“We’re going to need a new roommate,” he gasps, sliding in the car. “Combeferre just tried to _eat me_.”

“Unfortunate,” Eponine says, buckling up. “Let’s go.”

She should probably be more upset about Combeferre, she thinks as Grantaire speeds wildly down the road, hitting zombies left and right. And she _will_ be upset about him later, probably, but right now she has to worry about her brother, about Cosette, and about killing her dad.

Well—maybe she doesn’t have to _worry_ about killing her dad. Look forward to, maybe.

*   *   *   *   *  

“You stay here,” Eponine says, staring at her childhood house. “I’ll get Gav.”

“Have fun killing your dad!” Grantaire calls out cheerfully as Eponine gets out of the car.

She lets herself in the house, closing the door behind her as silently as possible. Nobody seems to be home, and she lets herself hope that maybe her probably-zombified dad has just wandered off somewhere.

She makes her way up to Gavroche’s room and knocks, as quietly as she can.

“Gav,” she hisses. “It’s me, it’s Ep.”

The door flies open, and Gavroche launches himself at her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She hugs him back, squeezing him tight like she used to when they were young.

“Are you okay?” she says, checking him over for bite marks. “You’re not hurt?”

“For the last time, Ep, I’m _fine_ ,” he says. “What’s happening that makes you think I’m hurt?”

“Um,” Eponine says, mind racing. “I’ll explain it in the car. Grab your things, okay?”

Gavroche frowns. “Things?”

“You’re going to be staying with me for a while,” Eponine explains. “This house isn’t good for you—for quite a few reasons, really.”

Not the least of which is potentially zombified parents.

Gavroche’s eyes light up, and he runs back inside, throwing things into his backpack. “Does Dad know you’re taking me?”

“He does _now_ ,” a voice says from behind her. Eponine shrieks, raising her bat and stepping in front of Gavroche.

Her dad—who is definitely _not_ a zombie—stands there, looking at her with a bemused look on his face. “What’s with the bat?”

“I…don’t actually have a good explanation for that,” Eponine admits. She has a perfectly good explanation—hordes of the undead have descended on their city—but she doesn’t really want to make Gavroche deal with it until she has to.

“Well, you can just clear off right now,” her dad says. “You’re not taking Gavroche, I’m pretty sure I made that clear.”

“Okay, I’ll bring him back,” Eponine says, desperate. “Just let me have him for the day, it’s my day to have him, _please_ —”

“I think we both know you don’t plan on bringing him back,” her father says, crossing his arms. Eponine groans in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose. It’s the end of the fucking world, and she’s _still_ fighting with her dad over Gavroche.

“I don’t really have time for a huge discussion,” she says. “We’re heading over to Cosette’s, and Gavroche is coming with me.”

“Fine,” her dad says. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“Like _hell_ you are,” Eponine snarls. “Come on, Gav, let’s go.”

She takes her brother’s hand and heads outside, her Dad trailing behind them.

“What are you playing at?” she hisses, once Gavroche is safely in the car and out of earshot. “You got bitten, you know you’re a goner.”

“I don’t know about that,” he says with a smirk. “And you can’t prove that I’ve been bitten, either.”

“ _Fine_ ,” she growls. “Whatever, dad. Just get in the fucking car and don’t talk.”

“Good job killing your dad,” Grantaire mutters when they’re back on the road.

“Are those _zombies_?” Gavroche says, face pressed to the window. _“Awesome_.”

*   *   *   *   *  

She doesn’t even bother knocking at Cosette’s, just goes right ahead and scales the wall to the balcony, rapping at the window. Jehan lets her in, and when she sees Cosette, pale and blond with no traces of blood anywhere, she can’t help but give her a hug full of relief.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs. “Thank god.”

Cosette carefully removes Eponine’s arms. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to rescue you,” Eponine explains. Cosette looks from Eponine to the horde of zombies outside and rolls her eyes.

“Well done.”

“It’s not safe here,” Eponine says. “Grantaire and my dad and Gavroche are all in the car, we’re going to the Musain. It’s got heavy doors and deadbolts, it should be secure.”

“Even when you’re trying to save my life, you take me to the fucking Musain,” Cosette says with a snort. “ _Typical_.”

“They’ve got guns there, only a few exits—it’s a perfect place to hide out, and you know it,” Eponine argues.

“Does that gun even work?” Enjolras says, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably!” Eponine says. “Now let’s get moving—the car’s going to be a bit cramped, but I think we can fit all three of you in there—”

“Four,” Cosette says, looking slightly abashed. “There are four of us.”

“Hi,” Marius says from the corner. “Good to see you, Eponine.”

“We’ve been split up for less than twenty-four hours!” Eponine says exasperatedly as she turns back to Cosette. “You’re already having your ex round for tea?”

“Don’t be gross,” Cosette says. “He was in the area, and then the swarm from hell descended.”

“Okay, we can probably fit him too,” Eponine says. “Just—grab something heavy, and get ready to smash heads in.”

*   *   *   *   *  

The car is barely habitable—Eponine has Gavroche on her lap, Enjolras has Jehan on his, and Cosette has perched on Marius.

“Cosette, this is Gav,” Eponine says, trying to pretend Marius isn’t there. “Gav, this is Cosette. The weirdo in the back corner is my dad.”

“I take it _you_ dumped _her_ and not the other way round?” her dad says, wheezing. “Good choice there, Collette—Ep’s a fucking disaster—”

“Yes, _thank you_ ,” Eponine snarls, elbowing him. “Grantaire, that was the turn—”

“I know a shortcut,” Grantaire says, swerving to hit another zombie.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Enjolras snaps. “Try not to get us all killed, will you?”

“Relax, pretty boy,” Grantaire says with a smirk.

“Save it for later, R,” Eponine says, rolling her eyes. “Like maybe when we’re not in a fucking _apocalypse—”_

“Hey, Ep?” Gavroche says, nudging her shoulder. “I think dad just died.”

And indeed he has. “Fuck,” Eponine breathes. “He really _did_ get bit—oh, _hell_. Grantaire, stop the car!”

Grantaire slams on the brakes the same moment as her father’s eyes pop back open and he lunges at them, snarling. Eponine tosses Gavroche behind her onto the pile of Enjolras and Jehan, bringing up her baseball bat to hold him off.

“Everyone out!” she shrieks, and Cosette’s already bolted around the side of the car to open the door, and everyone’s falling out. Eponine scrambles to her feet and slams the door, staring at her now officially zombified dad clawing to get out.

There’s silence for a moment, and Eponine is uncomfortably aware of the zombies on the road that haven’t noticed them yet.

“Well, _that_ worked out well,” Marius says, and Eponine wants to punch him. “Now what do we do?”

“Now we walk,” Eponine says, sounding more sure than she feels.

Marius looks appalled. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Eponine sighs, turning on her heel and raising an eyebrow.

“Do I look like I’m kidding, freckles?”

He has to admit that she does not.

*   *   *   *   *  

They go off-road, tramping through backyards and people’s gardens. Eponine takes the lead, keeping Gavroche on one side and Cosette on the other. Marius follows Cosette, chattering about zombie movies and logistics to Jehan, who’s side-eying him warily. Enjolras and Grantaire bring up the rear, silent and watchful.

Gavroche had run off almost right away, rummaging through an abandoned shed to find a weapon. He’d come up with a steel baseball bat, grinning and holding it out. “Now we match,” he’d said, and they’d knocked the bats together.

“He’s a great kid,” Cosette says, as Gavroche falls back to talk with Marius about the best ways to kill zombies. “It’s a shame it took the end of the world to meet him.”

“I’m sorry,” Eponine says, and she can tell that Cosette knows that she’s not just sorry about Gavroche.

“I know,” Cosette sighs. “But it doesn’t change anything—I meant everything I said yesterday.”

“I k—, ” Eponine says as she rounds the corner and is knocked over by Bahorel for the second time in as many days.

“Eponine!” he says, joyful as ever as he helps her up. “Good to see you still among the living!”

“Hey, Bahorel,” she says, hugging him. “You’ve got yourself quite a group.”

“This is my boyfriend, Feuilly,” he says, dragging up the smaller man. “Over there we have Courfeyrac, you know Musichetta, and the two in the back are Joly and Bossuet. This is my friend Eponine, her brother Gav, and her girlfriend, Cosette. I don’t know the rest of you—”

“They split up yesterday, actually,” Marius interrupts.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bahorel says. “Where are you headed?”

“The Musain,” Eponine says.

Bahorel claps her on the back. “Excellent choice! Best of luck.” He leans over to high-five Gavroche. “See you around, little man.”

The groups file past each other, avoiding eye contact. Eponine hopes she’ll see Bahorel again, but she doubts it.

*   *   *   *   *  

“We just have to go straight from here and the Musain’s going to be right across the street,” Eponine says.

“And how many fences are we going to go through?” Enjolras asks, raising an eyebrow. Eponine shrugs.

“As many as we have to.”

And with that, she hops over the first fence.

It’s slow going at first—Jehan keeps falling over, and Marius jumps over one fence directly into a tree—but they manage to get a good rhythm going, boosting each other over and pulling each other up.

They’ve only got two more fences to go when Eponine hears a scream from behind her.

_Gav._

She bolts towards the scream, knocking Grantaire over into Enjolras, and leaps back over the fence to find Gavroche facing off with a zombie.

She’d dropped her bat when Gavroche had screamed, so she resorts to kicking it in the face instead.

“Eponine, here!”

Jehan’s face appears at the top of the fence, and he throws the baseball bat at her, which she catches and swings all in one smooth movement. The zombie’s head must have been loose already, because when the bat connects, it comes off and sails across the yard.

Once she’s determined that there are no other zombies around, she throws the bat down and sweeps Gavroche into a tight hug.

“You need to stay close to me,” she says, verging on hysteria. “Jesus, don’t wander off! Don’t ever get that far away from the group—are you hurt? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Gavroche says, voice muffled. “Just finding it hard to breathe.”

“Sorry,” Eponine says quickly, letting him go. “Don’t scare me like that, okay?”

“Okay,” Gavroche says.

“And you’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, _mom_ ,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Is everyone okay?” Cosette says, halfway over the fence.

“We’re good,” Eponine calls out.

They make it over the last fence and group up near the gate. “I’ll check if the coast is clear,” Eponine says, poking her head out.

“How’s it look?” Grantaire says, twirling his crowbar.

“I think the correct term is, ‘we’re fucked’,” Eponine says.

“How many are there?” Enjolras asks.

“A fuckton,” Eponine says. “We’re going to need a plan.”

“I think I have an idea,” Jehan says, peeking out onto the street. “How’s your acting?”

“I already don’t like where this is going,” Marius says, and Eponine has to agree.

*   *   *   *   *  

But, as it turns out, zombies are stupid, and stumbling around and groaning gets you past them without a question.

Gavroche is the best at it; staggering around and moaning like a champ. Eponine allows herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, they might all get out of this alive.

Which should have been her first clue that everything was going to go to hell.

The Musain is locked, which Eponine really should have seen coming. Then Grantaire’s phone goes off (“Who the hell is even left alive to call you?” Enjolras hisses. “I have a life outside of Eponine,” Grantaire says, answering the call), and while Eponine is yelling at him, trying to get him to see why phone calls _might_ be a bad idea, Marius gets desperate and throws a trash can through the window.

So Eponine does the only thing she can think of—she hands Gavroche off to Cosette, stands on a nearby bench, and starts shouting until every zombie in the vicinity is coming after her.

She leads them a few blocks away, ditches them in an alley, and goes back to the Musain through the back door, praying that the others knew to get in through the window.

Cosette and Marius are in the middle of a shouting match, something about ‘reliability’—but when Cosette sees Eponine, she looks visibly relieved.

“Told you she’d come back,” she says, smiling. “Now, Ep—what’s the plan?”

“This _was_ the plan,” Eponine says. “Now we wait.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Grantaire runs downstairs to flip the fuses and when the power comes back on, Jehan starts flipping through the channels, trying to find any scrap of information, but all the stations have gone dark.

“Ep,” Grantaire says quietly when he comes back up. “We have a problem.”

“Let me guess—more zombies?” she says, rolling her eyes. “Of _course_. How many?”

“A whole fucking lot,” he says, taking a swig of something from behind the bar. “We’re completely boned.”

“Not yet,” Eponine says. “We just have to be quiet.”

“How about some music?” Marius says, flipping on the jukebox.

“No!” Eponine and Grantaire shout.

“There are a shitton of zombies out back,” Eponine says, leaping to her feet and grabbing the baseball bat.

“And even if there _weren’t_ ,” Enjolras says, grabbing a golf club, “why the hell would you put the jukebox on?”

“I was trying to lighten the mood!” Marius says. “ _Shit_ —zombie, twelve o’ clock!”

Eponine whirls around to find old Mrs. Huchloup staggering towards them, eyes blank and mouth bloody.

 “Go out to the fuses, kill the music,” Cosette snaps at Marius, hoisting the lacrosse stick. “We’ll take care of her.”

She lays into Mrs. Huchloup with a vengeance, splattering blood everywhere, and soon there isn’t even a recognizable head left.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Eponine says, staring. Cosette smirks.

“What, you think you’re the only one that can beat in heads?” she asks, twirling the lacrosse stick like a baton, only to smack herself in the head. “ _Ow_.”

“I found the gun!” Jehan says, sprinting up. “There’s like 30 bullets in here—does anyone know how to fire a gun?”

“I can,” Enjolras says.

“My dad taught me how to shoot when I was nine,” Eponine says, taking the gun. “I think you’d better let me.”

He acquiesces, rolling his eyes. “Fine. We’ll be the spotters.”

“Cosette, get Gavroche out of the way,” Eponine says, loading the gun. “Everyone ready?”

They nod. “Ten o’clock,” Enjolras says, pointing. Eponine turns and fires, getting the zombie through the head.

“Three o’clock!” Jehan says, and Eponine very calmly turns and fires again.

They continue in the same vein for a while, reloading twice, until Cosette yells, “Eponine!”

Eponine jerks, missing her shot. “Work on barricading the window,” she tells Enjolras. “I’ll be right back.” She hurries over to Cosette and Gavroche. “What’s happened?”

Cosette is on the verge of tears. “Ep, I’m so sorry.”

Eponine almost stops breathing. “Sorry for what?”

“He got bit,” Cosette whispers, sniffling.

“What do you mean, he got bit?” Eponine says, voice getting louder. “He told me he was fine, he said he was okay—”

“’M sorry, ‘Ponine,” Gavroche says, gradually getting paler. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Who’s worried? I’m not worried?” Eponine says with a sob. “You’re going to be okay, Gav. You’re gonna be fine.”

He gives her a look. “I’m dead meat and you know it.”

“No, you’re not, Eponine insists. “I’m going to take care of you, okay? I’m your big sister, it’s my job.” She starts full on crying, body shaking as she sobs. “I was supposed to take care of you, I was supposed to keep you safe—”

“We’re going to have to shoot him,” Marius says, and Eponine lunges up and punches him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

“Nobody’s shooting my brother!” she screams. “Got that, freckles? Nobody?”

“Don’t be daft, ‘Ponine,” Gavroche says, rolling his eyes. “Someone’s going to have to do it.”

“Nobody has to do anything,” she says, sitting down and holding Gavroche close. “We just have to wait it out. You’ll see, it’ll be fine, it’ll all be okay.” Gavroche’s breathing slows.

“You know,” he says, struggling for breath, “I always figured if I got shot, it would be by Montparnasse, or Dad. I’m glad it ended up being you.”

Eponine runs her fingers through Gavroche’s hair, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. “I love you so much, Gav. You know that, right? I love you so, so much.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Ep,” he says, eyes fluttering shut. “Jesus.”

“Gav?” Eponine asks weakly after a moment of silence. “Gav, talk to me.”

He does not answer, and Eponine curls in on him, sobbing. Cosette slides an arm around Eponine, squeezing her shoulder.

“I was going to get custody,” Eponine says, numb. “I was going to find a lawyer and get him out of that house, I was going to help him grow up better than I did—”

“I’m sorry,” Cosette says, hugging her. “I’m so sorry.”

They sit there in silence for a while, when suddenly Gavroche starts moving.

“I told you,” Marius says, backing up. “He’s a zombie now—you have to do something.”

“I can’t believe you dated this guy, Cosette,” Grantaire says, appalled. “He’s a giant douchecanoe.”

“Do you want to do it, or would it be easier if I did?” Enjolras asks, holding out the gun.

“I’ll do it,” Eponine says, sniffling. “He was glad that it would be me.”

She loads the gun, fumbling with the shells, while Gavroche— _no,_ she tells herself, _the zombie that_ used _to be Gavroche_ —staggers to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Gav,” she whispers, and she pulls the trigger.

“You did the right thing,” Marius says, a hand on her shoulder.

“ _Fuck off, Pontmercy!_ ” Eponine yells. “I just had to shoot the only real family I’ve got, let’s see you be so casual when it’s your family you’re shooting!” Marius backs up, panicked, and Eponine keeps shouting as she walks towards him.

“Out of everyone that could have died today, you just _had to live!_ ” she screams, and Marius flattens himself against the window. “No wonder Cosette dumped you, too! I may be a fuck-up, but at least I’m not an asshole!”

“Look, just let me explain—” Marius says, but before he can, the zombies outside break through the window and drag him out.

“Shit!” Cosette shouts, racing over and grabbing one of Marius’s legs. Jehan grabs the other, and Eponine and Grantaire latch on, trying to tug him back inside.

Tug of war is not meant to be played with real people, and both of Marius’s legs come off with a sickening ‘pop.’ The rest of the horde breaks through the front door, and Jehan quickly gets lost in the crowd, using Marius’s leg as a weapon.

“Grantaire! Help me make some Molotov cocktails,” Enjolras says, tossing the gun to Eponine. She takes it and starts firing into the crowd, while Cosette picks up the baseball bat, smashing in heads with gusto.

“Guys,” Cosette calls back. “Sometime today would be nice!”

There’s no answer, just shrieking. “Eponine!” Cosette calls. “I think the boys could use some help!”

Eponine turns, shooting the zombies that have Grantaire and Enjolras in their grasp. “Everyone, to the bar!”

They dive behind the counter, and once Grantaire and Enjolras have stumbled back there with them, Cosette pours a bottle of tequila along the bar and lights it on fire.

“Two of us have been bitten and the bar’s on fire,” Eponine says. “What the fuck do we do now?”

“Go out through the cellar,” Grantaire says, wincing.

“Back outside?” Cosette asks, incredulous.

“Possible death out there, certain death in here. The cellar it is,” Eponine says, hoisting up the door. They stumble downstairs, barricading the door behind them. Cosette starts to yank on the trapdoor leading out, while Eponine finds the boys some towels.

“It’s no use,” Cosette says. “We’re trapped.”

“Of course we are,” Eponine says, sitting down heavily. “This was my idea, and my ideas never go to plan because I’m a complete fuck-up.”

“You’re not a complete fuck-up,” Cosette says, sitting down next to Eponine.

“Let’s recap, shall we?” Eponine says. “Marius got his legs ripped off, Jehan got overrun by the horde, I had to shoot my little brother, and Grantaire and Enjolras are on their way out.”

“Yeah, but you _tried_ ,” Cosette says earnestly. “You did something. You didn’t just sit around and wait to die.”

The banging at the cellar door increases, and Eponine sighs. “Well, if we’re not going to sit and wait to die, we’d better get on it. We’ve only got two shells left.”

“There’s a fucking axe on the wall,” Enjolras says, irritated. “Quit moaning and break the door down. _Christ_.”

“Right,” Cosette says, running for the axe. Eponine goes to help Grantaire up, but he waves her off.

“We’re not making it out of this one, Ep,” he says. “You and Cosette just need to run for it, but Enjolras and I should just stay here. We’ll slow you down.” He looks at Enjolras hesitantly. “That is, if it’s okay.”

Enjolras nods. “It’s okay.”

Eponine hands him the gun and pulls Grantaire into a hug. “We really fucked up this time, didn’t we?”

“I dunno,” he says. “I still think that time you set the microwave on fire was worse.”

Cosette leans down and gives Enjolras a kiss on the forehead. “You were my best friend, you know.”

“Will you people quit getting sentimental and get out of here?” Enjolras growls. “I love you too, Cos, but come on. Priorities.”

“Relax, pretty boy,” Grantaire says, grabbing his hand. “It’s the end of the line, might as well get it out now.”

Cosette smashes the cellar door open and turns around. “Goodbye, guys.”

“Good luck,” Eponine says, waving as she and Cosette clamber out of the cellar.

On the street, there are zombies everywhere. They haven’t noticed Eponine and Cosette yet, but they will soon enough.

“Cos?” Eponine whispers. “I know you dumped me, but as long as we’re going to die—I love you a lot, you know.”

“Yeah,” Cosette whispers back. “I really love you too, weirdly enough.”

Eponine grins at that, and takes Cosette’s hand. “You ready?”

Cosette nods, resolute. “I’m ready.”

She raises her axe and Eponine raises her baseball bat when suddenly, trucks surround them.

The trucks flood the street with light, and men in uniforms pour out, shooting everything around them.

“Eponine!”

And Bahorel’s there again, sweeping both of the girls up into another one of his hugs.

“You made it!” he says with a smile. “I thought you were goners for sure.”

“So did I,” Eponine says, dazed. Cosette squeezes her hand.

“They’re going to take us somewhere safe,” Bahorel says. “Is it just you two?”

“Us against the world,” Cosette says dryly, and Eponine laughs as they follow Bahorel to the truck.


	3. Chapter 3

**6 Months Later**

When Eponine gets up in the morning, Cosette’s already downstairs. _Zombie Wipeout_ is on, and it never fails to make her laugh.

“I know it’s mean to laugh,” she says, swinging her feet up onto Eponine’s lap when she settles on the couch, “but it’s just hilarious.”

“Slapstick is the lowest form of comedy,” Eponine says.

“Well, it was this or one of the many news specials on today,” Cosette says. “It’s been six months, and everyone’s marking the anniversary. I figured laughing was a better way to go about it.”

 “I’m gonna go out to the shed, I think,” Eponine says. “Wanna come with?”

“Sure thing,” Cosette says. “I’ve got a new book for him, anyway.”

They head outside into the fresh air and cross the yard to the shed, where Zomjolras and Zomtaire (as Cosette has named them) are chained inside.

Eponine plops on the floor next to Zomtaire and turns the TV on, handing him a controller. It’s taken some time, but he’s finally figured out what to do with it. He’s still pretty bad—Eponine usually wins—but he’s getting there.

Cosette sits on the armchair across from Zomjolras and begins to read aloud. It’s some book about the French Revolution, his favorite subject. In the beginning he didn’t seem to hear when Cosette read, but now he pays rapt attention (as much as a zombie _can_ , anyway.)

“Jehan called,” Eponine says. “Bahorel’s having a party for the survivors tonight.”

“Will you promise to not make fun of Jehan for hiding in that tree?” Cosette says, raising an eyebrow.

“I suppose I can give him a break this one time,” Eponine says, smirking.

They fall back into an almost-silence, broken only by Zomtaire’s grunts and Cosette’s reading.

“I can’t believe it took the end of the world to get my life together,” Eponine says. “I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“Because I love you,” Cosette says, leaning over to kiss Eponine’s head. “Isn’t that enough?”

“You know,” Eponine says thoughtfully. “I think it is.”


End file.
